Commandments
by Lirenel
Summary: God gave Moses ten commandments. How do they play out in the world of Narnia? Encompasses most of the books. Any warnings can be found on my profile.
1. Thou shalt not covet

**Title: **Commandments**  
Disclaimer: **I do not own the Chronicles of Narnia.**  
Note: **Finally finished this! I've only been writing this since last autumn. Basically, each chapter deals with one of the Ten Commandments in the book of Exodus of the Hebrew Bible. It starts with number ten and goes backwards to one. Unfortunately, ten and nine are probably my least favorite ones, so if you can get through those, it gets better, promise. Anyway, I tried to do something a little different in style for each section.

I hope you enjoy!

* * *

_Thou shalt not covet_

Prince Rabadash always knew what he wanted. As long as he could remember, his eyes were fixed on the throne of his father. That was his goal: as the eldest son, he would be Tisroc when his father (may he live forever) died. For Rabadash, this day could not come soon enough; there was certainly no love lost between him and his father. The crown prince was a patient man, however, and he would use his time wisely to solidify his power.

So Rabadash took what he wanted: he bought the loyalty of many, ensured the loyalty of others with force. If he wanted a jewel or a ship or a warhorse, it was his. All his actions, everything he took, added to his ambition. The jewels bought loyalty, the ships and horses furnished his power. Everything he did aided him in his highest quest: to be the greatest Tisroc Calormen ever saw, to have poets sing of his reign as the Golden Age of the land. Rabadash sacrificed countless gifts to Tash, to persuade the great god to give him his greatest desire.

Over the years, Rabadash collected the material goods he needed to solidify his power, performed the services and heroics that gave him a great name. Now, to complete his set of possessions, he needed the perfect wife. Oh, he would have plenty of concubines and secondary wives to fill his pleasure, but he needed a queen of the utmost beauty and poise, a flawless image of womanly virtues.

He found her in that barbaric northern land of Narnia. Queen Susan possessed every aspect of feminine perfection: beauty, gentleness, grace. She had a few barbarisms, such as practicing archery and speaking, but Rabadash was sure that he would soon be able to wipe out those imperfections with time - and a little forceful persuasion. So he wooed the Narnian queen, desperate to acquire her for his own.

Rabadash was delighted when Queen Susan agreed to visit Tashbaan to accommodate his suite. He even allowed the irksome intrusion of her brother, King Edmund, to wash over him; the barbarian king would be no match for him, after all. No, soon Rabadash would have his perfect, northern wife. She would complete his set, and with her at his side, he would be the image of a great Tisroc, indeed the greatest Tisroc.

Unfortunately, Queen Susan and King Edmund did not seem to agree with him. After only a few days, they and their entourage slipped away from Calormen, heading back north. Rabadash's eyes grew dark with fury: how dare those barbarians treat him in such a way! This insult was not to be born. He _would_ have Susan for his wife, he _would_ be the greatest of all Tisrocs! It was his _right_! Surely Tash would give him his desire.

In later years, Rabadash would look back on his actions and realize that he should have been a bit more careful about demanding that Tash fulfill his wishes; for Rabadash did become a great Tisroc, one that led Calormen into an era of peace and prosperity. Oh, he did not have his northern wife, though the one he ended up with was a good second choice (one who was much less barbaric). But with the curse laid upon him by the demon Lion, Rabadash did not dare leave Tashbaan, dared not lead his army or allow any other to have victory in battle. So Rabadash focused his attention on the care and maintenance of his country, and in later years was known as Rabadash the Peacemaker.

Gaining his wish to be a great Tisroc, though, never fully pleased Rabadash. For, despite his title of Peacemaker, despite his long and calm rule, he could never be sure when people were calling him "Ridiculous" behind closed doors; and that galled Rabadash to no end. He was the Tisroc of the great Empire of Calormen! But he was also an ass, and one who learned the hard way to beware the fulfillment of desires.

* * *

I'll try to upload a new chapter each day.


	2. Thou shalt not lie

**Note: **This is probably my least favorite chapter, mostly because I'm not sure exactly what I was going for. Which is also why it's so short.

* * *

_Thou shalt not bear false witness against thy neighbor_

Lucy would never tell them, but the fact that Peter and Susan had not believed her about finding Narnia in the wardrobe almost hurt more than any cruel jeer that spilled from Edmund's mouth. She, sadly, expected Edmund to be mean to her; just as was his want for the past year or so. In fact, it did not even surprise her very much when, even after following her to Narnia, Edmund denied everything. Despite her disappointment, she had not learned to expect much from her older brother. Especially the truth.

But Susan and Peter…they _knew_ she didn't lie! Lucy had always done her best never to lie to anyone about anything. Even when she had told white lies to try and get herself out of trouble, it _hurt_ something, deep inside her, and she nearly always found herself confessing, sometimes even with tears. Peter and Susan _knew_ this. Why, then, had they not believed her, not until they saw Narnia for themselves? Why, despite all its illogicity, couldn't they at least trust that she had not lied?

Lucy knew they had not meant to hurt her, and so had forgiven them verbally the moment Peter apologized. In her inner heart, though, she found it easier to forgive Edmund when he returned; for she saw that he at least recognized that he had _done_ wrong, and had sought out her forgiveness in earnest. Peter and Susan only thought that they had _said_ wrong, not that they had wronged _her_. Peter had apologized for not believing her. He hadn't apologized for _hurting_ her.

When a year later, or sixteen depending on your count, things were no different, Lucy could only shake her head in sadness and frustration. Neither Susan nor Peter believed her when she said she had seen Aslan, despite years of knowing that she would never lie, especially about someone as sacred as the Great Lion. Only Edmund, changed, faithful Edmund, insisted that, whatever logic might say, he would believe her. And as they walked away from the gorge's edge, away from Aslan, Lucy could only look helplessly at Edmund. They both knew she had been telling the truth; but it seemed that their siblings still could trust only in themselves…not in their sister, not in Aslan. Not in Truth.

* * *


	3. Thou shalt not steal

**Note: **I think I forgot to mention, but each chapter will also deal with a different character each time.

* * *

_Thou shalt not steal_

It began as it ended, with a lion. The first lion was merely a toy, a stuffed doll given to Lilt, princess of Charn, for mid-autumn festival. It was a small thing, hardly worth any notice; but in little Jadis's eyes it was a treasure. A treasure better than her own toy wolf, a treasure her sister did not deserve. When, one evening before bed, the lion disappeared, Jadis denied all knowledge of its whereabouts. She was not her sister's keeper; it was not her fault Lilt could not keep track of her things. Jadis was elated that she was believed. Still, as Lilt cried herself to sleep and Jadis clutched the lion tightly to her chest, the joy she thought possessing the lion would give remained beyond the young girl's grasp.

Years passed by. Both Jadis and Lilt blossomed into lovely young women, each stunning examples of the great House of Charn. Many in the land noticed as well, but few approached them; for their beauty was daunting and their bearing imposing. That did not keep Jadis from pursuing her desires. And the object of one desire was a young man, already betrothed to a young Charnish maiden. Passion burned within Jadis, so hot that she thought she would melt from it. Despite the loving innocence of the couple, despite the caution of her nurse for temperance, Jadis hunted him as one hunts a deer, and entangled the young man in her web. Ripping him from his betrothed with seduction and power, Jadis captured him entirely. Then, when her passion was sated, her desire cooled and a time came when Jadis even forgot his name, remaining untroubled by the lives she had destroyed.

The King of Charn, father of Jadis and Lilt, was not a good man or a good king. He was a cruel tyrant, as his father before and his grandfather and on down through the ages, and he reveled in all varieties of evil deeds. His children were little different, so it was no surprise to the King when his health began abruptly fading with no _discernable_ cause, much as his own father's had previously. Within a day the King was dead, and his daughter, Jadis, assumed his throne with majestic remoteness. The standard proscriptions and massacres followed as Jadis claimed what she believed was hers by right.

Almost as soon as she took her father's throne, Jadis found herself embroiled in a bloody contest with her sister. Lilt claimed her own right to rule Charn, and a civil war followed. Hundreds of cities and thousands of people fell under the greed of the sisters. To her horror, Jadis began losing the war and her supporters fled to the other side. Soon she was alone, standing on the steps to the Great Terrace as a smirking Lilt approached. "Victory," came Lilt's golden voice. "Yes, victory. But not yours." And with a Word, Jadis snatched the triumph from her sister…along with Lilt's life and the life of Charn itself.

Countless nights rose and fell before Jadis was freed from her dying prison. Thrown into first one world and then another, she desperately sought to establish her power once more. Though she fled the Great Lion and his Song, she found her prize deep in the Western Wilds. Stealing over the walls of the Garden, Jadis came upon a tree, heavy with silver apples. Jadis ignored the warning of the gates a second time and eagerly devoured an apple for herself. She smiled as immortality flowed through her veins, and as the last remnants of her humanity faded away.

Nearly a thousand years passed when Jadis conquered Narnia away from the line of King Frank and Queen Helen. Her power was finally absolute, unchallenged, immortal. In her winter she had no fear; none but the niggling dread instilled by that persistent prophecy, dread of the existence of Adam and Eve's children. And so, when a son of Adam appeared in the woods, Jadis made her greatest theft and, in doing so, sealed her own doom. For she stole the boy's loyalty, laid claim to his blood, and took the life of the Lion in his place. In her moment of supreme triumph – the Cat dead, the prophecy unfulfilled – Jadis met with the culmination of her life. This Lion, no harmless toy, conquered death and overcame her theft.

For the Lion, by nature and decree, restored what was stolen to its rightful place, and took what was justly His: the boy, the kingdom…and Jadis's life.

* * *


	4. Thou shalt not commit adultery

**Note: **How to write about adultery in Narnia? It seemed impossible, but then I got the idea of writing about the _opposite _of adultery: faithfulness. And, as I was still grinding my teeth over the whole Suspian thing, I decided to write about the _real_ couple. It's actually a poem, based (very, very) loosely on Anglo-Saxon rules, meaning it actually does tell a story and doesn't rhyme and there is alliteration. No meter. I hate meter. I learned this translating 'The Ride of Theoden' into Old English for class, so no meter will be seen in this poem.

* * *

_Thou shalt not commit adultery_

Now shall we sing of the love of a star  
who captured the heart of King Caspian,  
tenth of the name, of the renowned Telmarines.

Long on a lonely island she lingered,  
waiting for the wind-filled sails of the sea-travelling ship  
to bring the brave-hearted king to bear her home.

Long love did they share in royal lives,  
daughter of stars and doughty sea-farer,  
never breaking the bonds tying them together.

No maiden of midnight locks and rosy lips,  
of blue-eyed stare and soulful song,  
turned the king from his tawny, twilight bride.

No knight of noble visage, virile carriage,  
of fair face and battled fortitude,  
stirred the heart of the steadfast star-queen

Affection never altered to errant course  
as it grew in time and graceful tenderness,  
strong love standing firm in faithfulness.

Lion's blessing lay on loving bridegroom  
and bride with child born in bright spring,  
a son of a star and sea-caught sovereign.

A family firm in faith and fondness,  
star's daughter, sea-darer, and dearest son,  
in Aslan's paws they placed their hearts.

During the days of Narnia and her new nights,  
in the reign of King Caspian and his kind rule,  
we shall surely sing of the love of his star.

* * *


	5. Thou shalt not murder

**Note: **Depending on religion or denomination, this commandment condemns either murder or killing. So as not to get into the 'when is killing alright' debate, I used 'murder' instead of 'kill'.

* * *

_Thou shalt not murder_

The castle at Beaversdam crawled with dismal silence. Often the Telmarines in the city below would glance upward towards the King's Tower, to the royal bedchamber where the High Lords of Court gathered. Fifteen of the noblest Telmarines stood near the walls of the room, eyes drifting ever to the pale, feverish man before them in the great bed. King Caspian IX lay dying of some ailment that even the best of the doctors could not identify or heal, and these lords were present to witness his last hours.

Standing closest to the dying king was his younger brother, Lord Miraz, who was a fierce, usually glowering, man. Though he was not known for having a close relationship with Caspian, Miraz knew when it benefited him to pretend to be the loving, little brother. So he stood by Caspian's bed, even managing to place his hand over the shaking fist of the king in a gesture of comfort. Not that Miraz was actually thinking of his older brother's comfort, his mind occupied with the future and his own place in it.

The distraction could be why Miraz was startled when another shaking hand covered his own. He looked up to Caspian's fever-dark, bloodshot eyes. "Miraz," came a hoarse whisper."

"I am here, brother."

"My son…"

Ah, the brat. Little baby Caspian, tenth of the same blasted name and the one barrier to Miraz's own royal accession. "Caspian is with his nurse."

The elder Caspian tried to lift his head closer to his brother, but did not have the strength. Curious as to what the king wanted, Miraz leaned closer. Caspian gasped out his words, made harsh by fever. "Let no harm come to my son."

Sensing the eyes of the Telmarine lords on his back, Miraz fixed a smile on his lips. "Of course, brother."

"Swear that you will not allow harm befall him. Swear by Aslan."

Miraz valiantly managed not to roll his eyes. Apparently the fever had already affected Caspian's mind, bringing forth the fairy tales that had been so loved by Miraz's late sister-in-law. "Surely you don't mean…"

"Swear it!"

The intensity of the rasping voice shocked Miraz, and for a moment he wondered if Caspian was as close to death as he measured. Miraz shrugged, unconcerned about swearing an oath by a fable if it made him look more humble and caring in the eyes of the surrounding lords. "Very well. May _Aslan_ do thus and more to me should dread harm fall upon the head of my beloved nephew, Caspian tenth of the name."

Caspian IX breathed a rattling breath and closed his eyes. Lord Miraz nearly thought him dead when a shaky hand grabbed the front of his shirt, pulling him into his brother's sickly embrace. While Miraz at first wondered if Caspian had somehow snapped and turned nauseatingly affectionate, his thoughts were answered by the King's soft, gasping hiss in his ear. "So now beware His magnificent justice, should my son fall to this same _sickness._"

In that moment, Miraz was glad his face was hidden from the Telmarine lords, that they could not hear Caspian's words nor see the realization hit the King's brother. _He knows!_ Before Miraz could formulate a response, Caspian released him and fell back into his pillow. With one last, sharp glance, the eyes of Caspian IX closed. They would not open again. Eighteen hours later the king was dead.

As night fell on the day King Caspian IX's death was announced and the reign of King Caspian X was proclaimed, newly instated Lord Protector Miraz slipped into the royal nursery. He stood over his nephew's crib, watching the infant sleep. Caressing the child's soft cheek, Miraz smiled. "One more between me and my throne. Oh, no need to worry, dear nephew, I am a patient man and I still have use for you." The smile darkened to a menacing grin. "But when that time is over, when you have outlived your usefulness, let us see your mother's decrepit lion hold me to my oath." Miraz stood back. "Magnificent justice, hah!" he muttered, turning and leaving the room.

And in his crib, the infant king clutched his lion-head rattle and dreamed of golden light and the sound of horns.

* * *


	6. Honor thy mother and father

**Note: **This was actually the last chapter written and, I believe, the longest. (The first story was written in September '08. This was written in April '09.)

* * *

_Honor thy mother and father_

Alberta Scrubb was extremely happy to send her older brother's children away at the end of that strange summer. It had been bad enough at the beginning: that Lucy girl was always skipping around, singing songs and insisting on sewing and cooking and all sorts of things that Alberta did not consider well done for a modern woman. Of course, Edmund seemed to encourage her, and displayed his own set of tedious, traditional manners that made him as stiff as his father.

Still, the common-place characters of her niece and nephew did not matter, for at least they made her own son, Eustace Clarence, look even better in comparison. _He_ was no common boy; he had the proper view of the world, advanced and up to date with the times. He did not live in the twelfth century like those Pevensie children seemed to do (she even caught Edmund _bowing _to Lucy once. How medieval!).

Then, in the span of a day, those two _completely_ corrupted her Eustace Clarence. Oh, he still sometimes showed his old spark, but he was just becoming more and more common the longer he spent time with his cousins. It was unacceptable! Why, that first day, Alberta clearly remembered that Eustace Clarence ran into the living room, a ridiculous grin on his face. He had thrown his arms around her (which, admittedly, she did not mind; it had been a long time since her son had showed her this much open affection) and called her _Mum. _His lapse into traditionalism had shocked her so much that she had not even reacted, just stared as he skipped out of the room to return to his cousins.

Her hopes that it was a one-time slip, a subconscious mimicry of Lucy and Edmund's customs, were in vain. Eustace Clarence continued mirroring his cousins' habits, particularly Edmund's manners. Alberta watched as he started holding doors open for herself and Lucy (as if she is unable to open a door), started calling her and Harold 'Mum and Dad' (though he sometimes slipped), and began collecting pictures of lions and dragons and merpeople (at least the mice were relatively normal). It was altogether disconcerting.

Alberta wanted it stopped.

Her determination came to the fore on the Pevensies' last day at their house. She calmly took Eustace Clarence aside as his cousins were packing and told him that, after that day, she would not have him contacting Edmund or Lucy, or their siblings, at all. No phone calls, no telegrams, no letters, no visits, nothing. Alberta watched as her son's face paled, his mouth opened in shock, but she held to her principles. Hopefully the separation would allow this commonness to wear off. Hopefully the son she knew would return.

Eustace Clarence was not pleased. Eyes fiery with anger, he yelled that he certainly _would _contact his cousins, thank you very much, and how exactly did she intend to stop him? Despite the fact that Alberta did not appreciate being yelled at by her son, it relieved her to see the old Eustace Clarence return. There was only a little force behind her frown when her son stormed out of the room, ranting as he went.

Alberta's relief was short-lived. Not a half hour later, Eustace Clarence slipped rather reluctantly into the room. His expression was a mix of shame, reluctance, and acceptance as he straightened his back. "Mum, I would…like to apologize for my behavior before. I shouldn't have yelled at you." He sighed. "I won't…I won't contact the Pevensies until you say I can. I promise." With that, he left the room, leaving a shocked Alberta behind.

Eustace Clarence was true to his word. He didn't even ask Alberta or Harold to change their minds; he just accepted their edict. Not exactly with grace, since he pouted for about a week after Edmund and Lucy left, but still. He accepted it.

And yet, it made no difference. He still persisted in acting like his common cousins, despite their absence. Months passed, and still _her_ Eustace Clarence did not return. It was frustrating. More so, because Alberta found herself starting to _like_ the new Eustace. Common and old-fashioned though his actions became, there was a certain pleasantness about him that Alberta knew he had not had before. He was still _Eustace_, but he was…more. More kind. More considerate. More _full_. Alberta did not understand what made him change; but she started to like it.

Harold, it seemed, felt the same way. One night, after Eustace Clarence left the dinner table, Harold looked at his wife. "Is it really so terrible?" She did not have to ask what he meant. She knew.

Sighing, Alberta gave in. She had lost, but she may as well lose gracefully.

A week later, Eustace walked through the door and found his mother sitting at the kitchen table. "Eustace, you have visitors."

"Visitors?" Even changed, Eustace rarely had anyone visit his house, except for that Pole girl. "Is it Jill?"

"Well, I'm not Jill. Are you Jill, Peter?"

Eustace's eyes widened as Edmund and Peter Pevensie walked into the kitchen, Edmund jabbing his older brother with his elbow. Peter rolled his eyes, but he was grinning. "Don't think so, Ed. I suppose Lucy could be Jill if she were here." The blonde Pevensie smiled at Eustace. "She wanted to come, but she had already made plans with Mum to go shopping this weekend and she couldn't get out of it again."

Perplexed, Eustace looked at Alberta. "Mum? I thought…"

Alberta gave a small smile. "I gave in to the inevitable, I'm afraid. Now go, entertain your guests. They're only here for two days."

She looked away, out the kitchen window, and so was surprised when her son threw his arms around her. "Thanks, Mum," he whispered, before turning red and herding his cousins out of the room.

Listening to the boys' laughter, feeling the memory of Eustace's embrace, Alberta rather felt that, in losing, she had actually won.

* * *


	7. Remember the Sabbath, to keep it holy

**Note: **I actually think someone has already written something like this before. I swear I had the basic outline in my head before reading it anywhere else. Of course, it's hard to do anything with an established Sabbath in Narnia, so I wouldn't be surprised if a lot of people had the same basic idea about it.

* * *

_Remember the Sabbath, to keep it holy_

Not six months into his reign, High King Peter found himself overworked, exhausted, and not seeing an end in sight. Overwhelmed by the responsibilities of his new office, he barely had time to think, let alone spend a quiet moment of rest. And he was not the only one: Susan was growing increasingly frazzled as she took on the work of restoring Cair Paravel and running the household; Edmund was walking around with dark circles under his eyes, making his usually pale features look even more wan; even Lucy was falling asleep at the dinner table, one of the few times the four were able to sit down and relax in the day.

Peter sighed as he carefully flipped through the large book that sat on the table before him. He was in the old library, searching through the _History of the Laws of Narnia_ in order to find a previous ruling on the use of the silver mines of Mountain's Barrow; two dwarf clans were claiming that the other was taking more than their allotted portion of silver, but neither side could accurately say _what_ the allotted portions were. Which left Peter to try and find a suitable solution, despite the late hour.

Flipping past a few rulings on forest rotations, the title of one of the chapters caught the High King's eye: _On the Institution of Seventhday by King Frank I and Queen Helen. _Peter frowned. He knew that Seventhday was the last day of the Narnian week, but he had thought nothing of its origin. Why would it need a specific institution, when the other days did not?

Despite the need to figure out the allotments of Mountain's Barrow, and his own need for a good night's sleep, Peter found himself reading the Seventhday decree:

_A Declaration of Law by his Royal Majesty, King Frank of Narnia, and her Royal Majesty, Queen Helen of Narnia, on this day the 14__th__ of Applebloom in the 1__st__ year of Narnia. _

_AS the land of Narnia was created by the Great Lion, Aslan, son of the Emperor-Over-The-Sea and Highest King of Narnia.  
AS the Lord Digory, on the Day of Creation_, _planted the Tree of Protection on the command of Aslan.  
AS the Tree of Protection bore Seven Fruits  
AS one fruit was given to Lord Digory by Aslan for the life of his mother.  
AS on each day after the Day of Creation, King Frank and Queen Helen planted one of the remaining fruits, and each fruit bore leaves on their day of planting.  
AS on the seventh day after the Day of Creation there was no fruit left to plant.  
AS on that selfsame day the magic of Creation ceased its rapid growth_

_SO their Majesties, King Frank and Queen Helen, as appointed by Aslan to rule Narnia, declared the days of each week to be Seven.  
SO their Majesties, King Frank and Queen Helen, spoke on command of Aslan that the seventh day of each week be set aside for a time of rest._

_IT IS SO DECREED that on Seventhday, every Narnian shall remove themselves from their work, as the world came to rest on the Seventh Day of Creation. Let all Narnia rest and rejoice in the gifts of Aslan._

Peter sat back in his chair, brow furrowed in thought. Clearly this was a serious law; very rarely did any ruling include that the lawgiver declared the law "by command of Aslan", words that gave it force beyond that of a normal decree. Yet, the practice of the Seventhday rest had apparently fallen out of practice.

The High King smiled ruefully to himself. He could certainly see the sense of such a law; what he would not give for an entire day to rest! The smile widened, and Peter laughed at his own blindness. He was High King! It was his _duty _to restore the laws of Narnia, especially ones set down on Aslan's command. With another chuckle, Peter gathered the book to take back to his room. Tomorrow was Seventhday; in the morning he was going to call a council, announce the restoration of Seventhday as a day of rest, and then go back to sleep for the rest of the day.

By the time he reached his room, Peter was already half asleep. The relief that came from knowing that he could slumber without worry nearly overwhelmed him. He set the book on his bedside table and slipped under the warm covers. As sleep stole over him, he silently said a heartfelt prayer: _Thank you, Aslan. Thank you for looking out for us and our needs, even from the beginning of time._

And then Peter rested.

* * *


	8. Thou shalt not take God's name in vain

**Note: **This started going in one direction, than did an entire 90 degree turn and went somewhere completely different.

* * *

_Thou shalt not take the name of the Lord thy God in vain_

_.  
_

"Susan, why have you forgotten Narnia?"

"I haven't forgotten, but I remember it for what it was: a figment of our childish imaginations. I mean, how could it be real? Fauns and Talking Animals and magic don't exist. They're pleasant fantasies, fond memories, that's it."

"You brothers and sister, your cousin, your friends, still believe in its reality. Why have you forgotten?"

"They believe because it's a comfort for them, and I don't deny them their faith, especially since I once believed it myself. I…I _liked_ believing it. But that's the past, and I'm older now. I don't need to believe in Narnia. Let them believe what they wish, as long as they let me not believe."

"But they do not let you, do they?"

"No. They look at me with sad, hurt eyes, as if I'm some…some _traitor_ for not believing in fairy stories. I'm not the betrayer! No, no _they've _betrayed _me. _I'm their sister, but they turn their backs on me because I refuse to play along with their games, because I like living in the _real_ world."

"How have they betrayed you, Susan?"

"They have the audacity to act like I'm the enemy. Like I'm wrong to stop believing in fantasies. And, god, Edmund is the worst of them. Just because he played the traitor in our Narnia game, he thinks he's the expert on treachery. He had the gall to tell me that denying Aslan after knowing Him is worse than resisting Him in the first place!"

"Have you denied Him?"

"What's so wrong about not believing in a giant, talking Lion? Lucy is always saying how wonderful Aslan and Narnia are; she thinks she's so much better than me because she still trusts her imaginary friends. I can't stand it, why can't she just leave me be about someone who doesn't exist?"

"Do you then deny Him?"

"Must you still persist in haranguing me about this Aslan? It's bad enough that Peter keeps frowning at me about it. Keeps talking about how Aslan is in our world and that my _soul_ is in danger if I don't search him out! He's just so, so self-righteous, saying I'm nothing without having faith in mystical nonsense."

"So you still deny Aslan?"

"Oh, hang Aslan! He doesn't even exist and he's a thorn in my side. I want nothing to do with him, I just want him to leave me alone; let me live my life as _I_ want to live it, without him trying to change me! I want him to leave me alone, just _leave me alone!_"

"Is that truly what you wish? For Aslan, for your siblings, to leave you alone?"

"Yes!"

"Then so it shall be."

"Just like that?"

"It is a simple matter. All you needed to do was ask."

"So when I hear my siblings talk about Aslan?"

"You will hear only a word, if that is what you desire. His name will have no meaning."

"I…thank you."

"It is a pleasure to help you, my dear. Rest now and trust me: I will take care of everything."

As Susan drifted off to sleep, content in her choice, an icy chill swept across the room causing Lucy, who slept in the other bed, to shiver violently. And, flying hidden above the girls, a beautifully foul beak curved into a delighted smile.

"Yes, I always take care of my own."

.

* * *

This…really took on a life of its own and went completely perpendicular to where I was originally heading. In fact, up until the line "Then so it shall be" I was intending the conversation to be between Susan and _Aslan_. Then *bam* Tash appeared and the story turned dark instead of just sad.


	9. Thou shalt not make any graven image

**Note: **This was actually the first chapter I wrote and inspired me to right the rest of the series. Actually, it was written when I should have been taking notes in my 'Judaism in the Greco-Roman World' class. But oh well. I passed, and I managed to start two major fic undertakings: this one and the chapter fic I'm still working on.

* * *

_Thou shalt not make unto thee any graven image._

Aravis lay on her bed, fuming. How could this be happening to her? Were not the deaths of her mother and brother enough? Must she now be forced to marry this, this _pig_ of a man they had the nerve to call a Tarkaan? No, this couldn't happen!

Leaving the curtains of her canopy, Aravis slipped across her room to the Gods' Shrine. She stared at the small figurines that stood in the dark alcove, surrounded by the many offerings Aravis had given in prayer: flowers, honey-cakes, melted candles. So many gifts, so many prayers.

"What use were they?" whispered Aravis, fear flickering for her blasphemy even as her anger grew. "I gave you gifts and prayers. I _wept_ before you, _begged _until my knees blistered!" Rage filled Aravis's heart and she found herself grabbing the statuettes and hurling them across the room.

"My mother still died!"

Eshema, bearer of Tash

"My brother was still killed in battle!"

Anatuun, protector-god of soldiers

"I still must marry Ahoshta Tarkaan!"

Zardeenah, lady of maidens.

"None of you have ever helped me!" Aravis paused as she grabbed the last statue, the frightening, shadowy figure of Tash the Great God. Her knuckles turned white as she gripped the winged deity. "You are nothing but stone!" Tash flew against the wall, beaked head crumbling on the floor.

Aravis shook with her cooling anger, shocked at her actions and terrified of the consequences that could befall her for her sacrilegious actions. But Tash lay shattered next to the pieces of his kinsmen and Aravis stood, whole and healthy, not struck down by the god's terrible bolt. She squared her shoulders and narrowed her eyes at the pile at her feet. "Nothing but stone," Aravis repeated before turning away. It was time to take her fate into her own hands.

* * *

Aravis hasn't yet replaced the idols of her childhood with faith in Aslan, but that's told in HHB and doesn't need to be repeated here.


	10. Thou shalt have no other gods before me

**Note: **Last chapter! In case it isn't obvious, this is Edmund's chapter.

* * *

_Thou shalt have no other gods before me._

She promised me power over the lives of others. She told me I would have revenge against those who wronged me. She promised me pleasure, the sweet delight of forbidden candy. She was a queen, a goddess, and she gave her word to me.

Her promises were false jades.

She never meant to give me any of her authority. Instead she sought to take what power I had and pervert it to her own, cold rule. She used me, my traitor's blood, to lay claim to the Deep Magic. And I was helpless.  
She never intended to aid me in vengeance, and my thoughts of revenge froze in that cold cell. She entombed my heart in ice, quenching anger's bitter flame and leaving only hollowness.  
Her gifts of pleasure turned to dust in my mouth and bile in my stomach. Desire was never sated, but gorging my appetite only fuelled a dark, terrible sickness.

She was no true queen, no benevolent god.  
Her promise was death.

.

He promised me a life of servitude to himself and others. He told me to love my enemies and show mercy. He promised me redemption and joy. He was King, and God, and I trusted his word.

His promises are the purest gold.

He showed me that the highest of sovereigns must be the lowliest of slaves. As he served Narnia with his life, so I strove to do the same. And in being a servant, in kneeling to others, I became a king.  
He loved a traitor enough to endure torture, to lay down his very life. Instead of taking his just vengeance for my treachery, he showed me mercy. He opened my heart to love, and so I was able to love and give mercy in my turn.  
His gift of redemption saved me, restored me, and gave me a life of the most fulfilling joy. Even in times of trouble, his peace filled me.

He is King above all kings, he is God of all.  
His promise is life.

* * *

Note: When Edmund says Aslan is God of all, of course that is only in the context of the Chronicles of Narnia series, not in real life. I'm not saying Aslan is God in real life, since he's only a character in a book series.

Anyway, thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed the series!


End file.
